Hushed out and lulled
by syngrafeas
Summary: Journalists are kidnapped, killed for performing their job: airing their truth. But when Alice's former boss is killed and partner is kidnapped, she is determined to get to the bottom of it and give them their peace in death. Written in collaboration with WattPad acc:drunkandsobreity. Don't forget to be an angel and leave a review. I don't own any NCIS:LA characters.
1. Bold and Brash

Alice Duranty punched her car horn angrily. _Late for the first day of her new job. Great._ Though she didn't really understand why she had changed jobs. She was happy and pleased with her old job; so was her boss happy with her. Sigh. Guess she never could back down from the promise of more adventure, not that she didn't have enough already.

She knew she was late, but she was also hungry. She drove to a drive-thru that was en-route to her new office and purchased a coleslaw sandwich which she stuck in her mouth, and proceeded to drive with both hands. Better to go late on a full stomach, than go late and grovel for food there.

She parked her car by a two storied building which gave off the vibes of a pastel cottage. She went in, and saw that the bullpen was empty. 'Ah,' she muttered to herself. 'Not late at all.' Seeing that no one was here, she wondered what she should occupy herself with. Maybe a bagel, when she heard a whizzing voice behind her. Alice turned slowly to face a contraption with a screen at face-level. The face of the woman she had seen on her interview filled the screen. 'Miss Lange,' she said immediately. 'Hetty will do, Miss Duranty. How good to see you. _Late._ ' Alice turned tomato red. She muttered indecipherable about traffic.

'Well, late better than never. Follow me, please.' The razor scooter thingy that had a screen moved towards the bullpen which had one empty desk. 'This is your desk,' the screen turned. 'There is some paperwork left, about your job, I expect it to be completed by lunch.'

She gave out a long sigh and slid into a chair which wasn't meant for her slouchy back, but that of fit, athletic agents. She looked at the desks around hers. One was neat, with a few photos that she did not look at; that would be an invasion of privacy. The desk next to that was loaded with files-she guessed that the person sitting there was a procrastinator, who hated paperwork. The desk opposite that was messy with no inch to spare, and the desk next to that was extraordinarily neat. Just the laptop that was there at everyone's desk, and a pen stand.

* * *

Sam and Callen came in early, and saw a woman sitting in a desk that had been added to the bullpen. Her name plaque said 'Ms. Alice Duranty.' Not Agent- Ms.

'Hell-o,' Callen said. Alice's auburn hair cascaded down a little below her shoulders. She had a square jaw, slightly hollow cheeks and shallow eyes.

Alice smiled as Callen introduced himself. 'So, G? That's it?' she asked incredulously. Callen nodded. Alice chuckled. Callen said, 'One thing that I couldn't help but notice, your name plaque says Ms., not Agent.' Alice's eyes widened and fell. 'That, is because,' she said hesitating, 'I am not an Agent, but a _journalist_.' Sam raised his eyebrows. 'Why exactly do we need a journalist? Are you going to do a story on us?' He looked up, and raised his hands, demonstrating a camera frame, and said overdramatically, 'NCIS: Unspoken Heroes of the country.'

Alice let out a short laugh. 'Umm... No, I don't think so. I guess I have been hired... because I chase stories...' she said sheepishly, 'I can read lies... and I can get information. I have contacts.' Sam chuckled and picked up a newspaper.

'Chinese Prime Minister meets with US President. Discusses nuclear plans. Live press conference to be aired today.' He read out the second page headlines. Alice smirked without looking up as she filled in another form. 'You do know that that's lies, right?' she asked him. He juggled his head. 'Maybe. I know that, but I don't know how much of that is lies, and how much the truth.'

'Well, that particular article you're reading, the "live press" was shot two days ago.' Alice said candidly.

Sam raised his eyebrow. 'And that doesn't bother you? Being in a profession that is so full of lies?'

Alice looked up. 'Well, it is _ad maius bonum_. For the greater good. If that press was actually live, imagine everything terrorists could have known. Besides, you're a federal agent who specialises in undercover work. It would be highly hypocritical of you to comment on my work.' She said defensively.

'What would be highly hypocritical?' Kensi said as she walked in and dumped her bag on her desk. Deeks followed her and quietly hung the bag on a hook. Kensi hated it if he messed with her stuff. She liked things to be within reaching distance.

'Sam commenting on journalism as a profession full of lies.' Callen said quickly.

'Why would you be talking about journalism?' Deeks said as he settled down on his chair.

'Ms. Duranty here is a journalist.' Sam said to shaggy haired man beside him.

Deeks looked at the lady and offered a hand. 'Oh. Hi. I'm Deeks.' He looked around. 'Just out of curiosity, why do we have a journalist in the team?'

Alice smirked. 'Oh I'm doing a piece on you guys.' She imitated Sam's moves. 'NCIS: Unspoken Heroes of our Country.'

Kensi chuckled. 'Kensi. Nice to meet you. Maybe you can help me bear, all the... testosterone around me.'

'Oh... well, we can help each other. There is no job that I have been on, that has more women than men.' She now went muttering to herself. 'It's really unfair. Maybe I'll ask Jason to do a piece on that.' She pulled out a leather reminder and wrote out something in shorthand.

'So, what have you worked on till now?' Kensi asked.

Alice looked up. 'Oh. Umm. Buenos drug cartel. An ISIS money laundering business.' She shuddered. 'And of course, I've been to Syria and Afghanistan.'


	2. Shush little Baby

It was nearing the end of workday, with Deeks leaning over his desk, flirting with Kensi. Kensi was slightly annoyed, and was constantly looking over her shoulder for Hetty.

'Have you filed your paperwork yet, Mr. Deeks ?' Deeks spun around to see Hetty looking over his desk.

'Huh? Yeah, No. I haven't done the entire thing, but I'm not behind schedule either. See, I have this... uggh...stress-free system, in which I've got to constantly take breaks.' He nodded meditatively to himself. 'I could end up having breakdowns otherwise.'

'And the rest of you? I hope that you have.' Hetty looked around at the rest of them.

Kensi got up. 'Oh, I've completed everything. I think I'm gonna hang out in the gym for awhile.' She walked past Deeks desk. 'Hilarious.' He muttered.

'Alice? You're coming?' Kensi asked the journalist.

Alice got up and followed her. 'Yeah. Sure.'

They headed to the locker rooms, changed, then headed to the gyms. 'So...' Kensi said, pulling out training pads . 'Let's play... an icebreaker.' Alice nodded. 'Rapid fire.'

'I'll start.' Kensi said. 'What's your favourite food?'

'Pastries.' She kicked the pad strapped to Kensi's hand.

'Favorite drink?'

'Black tea.' Side-step and kick.

'Seriously?'

Alice shrugged. 'It is how it is.'

'Favorite Disney Princess.'

'Merida.' Simple front kick.

'Favorite superhero.'

'Marvel or D.C?' Twist and kick.

'Ughh... I don't know? You'll have to ask Eric or Nell that.'

'Wonder Woman. Or Lois Lane. Lois doesn't really qualify, but she's still there.' Turn round, bend low, and back kick.

'Favorite T.V show.'

' _Way_ too many.'

'Siblings?'

'Nope.' Clean and simple side kick.

'Third grade teacher.'

'Marlene Simmons.' Her leg went straight up, and came down hard on the pad.

'You honestly remember?'

'How could you expect me to forget one whole year of my life?'She hit the pad heftily with a back pivot kick and stepped out of the stance, putting her hands on her knees, and panting. 'Sorry,' she wheezed. 'I've got... asthma.' She kneeled down to catch her breath, then fell back into a cross legged sitting position. Kensi walked down to her and offered her a sip from her bottle. Alice gratefully accepted.

'This was fun.' Kensi said.

'Yeah,' Alice agreed, still panting, recovering from her recent asthma attack. She got up using her own knees as support with spright, considering. She was about to take the practice pads from Kensi, when a man knocked on the door of the mostly empty gym.

'Ms. Duranty?'

Alice looked up expectantly. 'Yes?'

'There's a call for you. Persistant person.'

Alice waved a little _I'll be right back_ to Kensi and followed the man to the reception room that was used as a cover for the building. She looked out of place; all the agents there had worn formal attire, and she was the one in a neon green sports bra and a pair of grey and black gym shorts. Ignoring the looks, she went straight to the phone.

 _Hello? This might be the third time I've called, and still no Alice,_ The voice on the other end said.

Alice creased her eyebrows. Who could it be? 'Hello?' she said tentatively.

 _Duranty? Is that you? Oh, Finally! Maybe you can give me a more accessible number next time._

'Dempsey?' She let out a sigh of relief. Wiley was one of best friends back at where she used to work. 'Why did you call now? These are working hours, you bimbo. Hasn't McKay assigned you... _The Kardashians_ or write about... _Taylor Swift's suitor list_ or something?'

 _Alice... it's McKay. And Jonathan. I thought you should know. They were in Syria. They..._

Alice's face whitened as she heard the rest. She was about to get a panic attack, she could tell. She was already gasping for breath. She shook her head, sat down on a chair, and kept her head between her knees. She felt everyone else going on about their usual job, ignorant of what just happened. She could hear a faint, 'Ma'am? Ma'am?' but she couldn't tell whether it was in her head or reality. She could hear her heart pump blood, and then just before her vision tunnelled, she remembered a completely random fact from her school days: _This is what happens when our blood pressure is higher than standard atmospheric pressure_ , _that is 760 mm of mercury which is also, what? 10 raised to the power of 5 Pascals?_


	3. Taken it to the grave

**Hey! Sorry for the super late update, but the site was down with a type 2 error. French fan: I wouldn't consider Alice as an agent, she's more kind of a liaison, or to put more accurately, someone Hetty hired because she thought she would bring something new to the plate. But Alice isn't trained in pro-fighting ninja/samurai like the others, just knows enough basics to protect herself.**

 **Wait for it, wait for it, and 3,2,1 Please review!**

'Ms. Duranty? Are you alright?' the man who had called her at the gym was sitting next to her. She suddenly noticed he had one hand over her back and her hands were clutching his other hand tightly. She withdrew her hands in embarrassment.

Alice ran her hands over her hair, and said, 'I will be. Thank you.'

'What happened?' He asked kindly.' 'Look, you can tell me. I'm a shrink.'

'All the more reason not to tell you.' She chuckled weakly at her frail attempt to make a joke, but obliged. 'My former boss and my partner. They thought... there was something fishy going on in Syria. They had gone there to cover a story. My boss did not make it. My partner's kidnapped.' She closed her eyes and squeezed tears out of them.

'I'm sorry for your loss.' he said.

'What's your name?'

'I'm sorry?'

'You never told me your name.'

'Oh. I'm Nate Getz.'

Alice burdened herself with the thought of the dismal circumstances of McKay's death. She'd never expected McKay to die this way. He seemed like the kind of man who would die as an old man on a hospital bed with his family around him. Certainly not because he knew something that threatened Syrian insurgents and terrorists. And Jonathan... He was still with them. They could be torturing him right now. A new wave of fear went through her. Jonathan was her colleague, when she worked in the press. He was much more than just a colleague, really. She thought of them last time she'd seen them. They were leaving a few days before Alice joined the NCIS. McKay wasn't even supposed to go. He was going to send her, but she had just accepted another job. And Jonathan... he was an aspiring photojournalist... and her beau.

'Thanks, Nate.' She told him and got up.

'Whoa, whoa, whoa. Where do you think you're going?' He asked her, stopping her in her path. 'You've just dealt with a lot of trauma. Take the rest of the day off. It's almost time to go anyways.' He said. Alice opened her mouth to argue, but he cut her off. 'No buts. I'll inform Hetty.'

'Where's Alice, Kens?' Deeks asked as Kensi exited the gym.

'I don't know,' she shrugged. 'She got a call about an hour ago. She didn't come here?'

'What were you doing in the gym?'

'Exercising? Those are what gyms are for, right?'

'Oh. I thought you and Alice were you know, becoming besties and planning trips to the mall.'

'So, where is she?'

Hetty appeared and answered for her. 'Ms. Duranty had to take the rest of the day off. She was met with a rather, horrific, personal trauma.'

'Oh, God.' Kensi's eyebrows creased. 'What happened? Is she alright?'

Hetty, answered in her annoyingly mysterious way, 'Are any of us?'

Alice dumped her bag on her prominently displayed desk, steering clear of the typewriter, and dropped herself down on her alcove bed. She had chosen an alcove bed, because more often than not, she would find herself asleep on her desk with her head in her work. She used to, until it became habitual of her to not sleep in her bed, until McKay taught her better. Despite being really tired from her work out, her dizzy head, Alice could not sleep.

At about midnight, she stopped tossing and turning and called a number.

 _Hello?_

'Kate? Is that you?' Alice asked.

 _Yes. Who's this?_ Answered McKay's widow.

'It's me, Alice. I just needed someone to talk to, and... I knew you wouldn't have gone asleep by now.' There was silence for a moment on the other end.

 _I just don't know what I'm going to do. We were supposed to live the rest of our lives together. Some b*** in the office had to leave at the last minute, and Andrew had to take her place,_ and then she started wailing. Alice comforted her. She ended up feeling even worse. McKay's wife blamed her. Alice called another number in her speed dial.

 _Hey, Alice._ A croaky voice, that had been crying recently answered.

'Jillian. How are you holding up?' She asked Jonathan's sister.

 _I'm_ not _that great. The FBI officers..._ there was a sniffle _; they said that I shouldn't get my hopes up._ Sniffle. _Wait. You didn't go with him? Weren't you partners?_

'Umm... Not really. We worked together on a lot of projects together, but we weren't partners, officially. But now,' Alice's voice cracked. 'I wish we were. What wouldn't I give to be there for him.' And for the first time since she got the news, she officially broke down, not counting the panic attack.

 _Don't._

'What?'

 _Don't blame yourself. You and Jonathan had gone there once before. You didn't know this would happen. And besides, he didn't want you to go there too._

Alice sniffed. 'What?' she said with wariness. They had once promised to always be there for each other.

 _Yeah. You didn't know? He said..._ sniffle, _that he didn't want you getting mixed up in this._

Alice's journalist senses tingled. 'Mixed up in what?' she said sharply.

 _I don't know,_ sigh. _He wouldn't tell._

'Umm... Jillian. Would you mind joining me for lunch tomorrow?' She would make sure McKay hadn't died for nothing. Her mind flashed back to a few days before McKay and Jonathan were leaving. They had a veil of secrecy over them. They wouldn't tell anyone what they were working on.

' _So, what do you want for lunch?'Jonathan Clarke hooked his hand around Alice's'._

' _I don't know. This cafeteria food is horrible. Can we go somewhere else?' she leaned a bit against Jonathan._

' _Are you alright? You seem tired.' He said, immediately straightening her up._

' _No. It's just... shark week.' She rolled her eyes. Jonathan chuckled well naturedly._

' _Let's go, Lois.' He led her out of the office cafe._

Alice couldn't help but smile at the memory of _Lois_. Jonathan used to joke that he was Clarke and she was his Lois Lane. She even had auburn hair. _No, wait. No past tense. Jonathan is still alive. I will find him. I still_ am _Lois._ She felt rejuvenated by this new sense of purpose. Instantaneously, she messaged Wiley Dempsey, Nico Mabray, and Rachel Baer from The Guardian to call her when they could.

Andrew McKay had kicked the bucket, and Jonathan was in striking stance. And it sure as hell wasn't for nothing.


	4. A murder is announced

Gone were Alice's B&W striped tee, anorak jacket, and skinny jeans. Gone were her trinkets: teal friendship bracelet from the time she volunteered in Masai Mara, Coral necklace from Vietnam.

'What's with the blazer?' Deeks asked Alice wearing a sleek black suit when he saw her leaning over her desk, reading a book carefully.

'Inspiration.' She said absent-mindedly.

'What?' Callen asked dumbfounded.

'One of the greatest journalists in the world was _killed_ yesterday, for the truth which he believed in. I,' gesturing to herself, 'intend to uncover the truth and bring another photojournalist home.' Her voice cracked a little when she said "photojournalist", but she was determined to get Jonathan back home.

'What has the blazer got to do with inspiration?' Sam asked, eyebrows raised.

'This,' gesturing to the suit now, 'was what Andrew McKay wore every damn day. And this, is a tribute to him.'

She went through another page of Jonathan's reminder. It took a little time, since he wrote in a different kind of shorthand, and she was advancing slowly. Heck, maybe there was software that could translate from shorthand. She climbed up the stairs two at a time, and went into Ops.

'Umm... Hello. You must be Eric,' she said to the man calling the shots on the monitors.

Eric turned around on his chair and did an awkward bow. 'Yes, _Madame,_ it is I,' in a faux French accent. 'Who might you, the adventurous stranger who dares invade our lands, be?'

'Uggh... Alice Duranty. I started working here yesterday.'

Eric got up and gave a deeper bow. 'What could I, valiant knight, do for you?'

'A lot. I was wondering, if there was any software or anything, that could translate from shorthand? The thing is, I use _Gregg,_ and this book here, is written in _Pitman_. I need to translate fast.'

'Oh, my dear woman. How I wished I could help you, but bad fortune has befallen upon us, for there does not exist such software.'

Alice ran down the stairs and started translating. Hetty interrupted, and told her that she had to trace a bunch of bills that had been transferred through different accounts, different banks, all over the world. Alice stared at the number of files of bank paper trails in front of her. She opened the first file: everything in fine print. She removed huge, _Harry Potter_ style reading glasses from their case, and set to work. She had to put this out of her way as fast as possible, so she could get on with finding Jonathan.

After about an hour, she was about halfway through her files. A huge sum, put into a bank in Los Angeles was about $200 each in banks in Shanghai, Beijing, Mumbai, Vienna, Berlin, Moscow, Tokyo, D.C, among others. She looked at the others for a second, not allowing herself to be distracted for more. Callen and Kensi were supposed to be reviewing NCIS applications and resumes from across the country. She didn't know what Deeks and Sam were doing, but it seemed to be as tedious as her job. In the next hour, she found where each and every penny was. After going to above mentioned places, the money was simply scattered across different branches across the city. She put the bundle aside and removed Jonathan's leather reminder.

An hour later, after going through the entire reminder, _nothing_. She looked at the time. An hour before lunch; her meeting with Jillian, Jonathan's sister. She tried to call her friends back at the newspaper again, but to no avail. She sighed and wondered if she would be more useful in finding Jonathan at the newspaper, but did not let herself get lost in idle thoughts. She logged on to Jonathan's email. She would under normal circumstances consider this wrong, but who cared now?!

 **Password:**

Jonathan had 2 emails IDs. One for work and one for personal use. She knew the password to his personal account but not this one. Eyebrows creased, she took a wild guess, and put in the name of Jonathan's camera: Talbot.

 **Password: ********

 **Login successful!**

Giving out a sigh of relief, she went through Jonathan's emails, taking specific interest in the ones shared with McKay. Nothing much. Just a few deadlines, and a copy of their tickets to the Middle East. Many emails had been exchanged between him and Alice. He would send jpeg attachments of pictures that he clicked and she would send him her articles, to see if they complemented each other. There were lots of mails from and to their common editor: Rachel Baer. She looked into each one of them. There wasn't anything. There were a few mails from Wiley, but nothing special. She went to the older mails. 1 mail stood out.

 **Andrew McKay (no subject)**

That caught her attention. McKay wasn't the sort of man to send a mail without a subject. He believed in everything being orderly and labelled. The body of the mail read:

 **ILuvZacEfron**

 **Pword:HighSchoolMusical**

Huh. Strange. Why would _McKay_ mail _Jonathan_ that? Whose ID was it anyways? McKay's teen daughter? She logged off Jonathan's ID and logged into the _Zac Efron_ ID. There were nil emails, either in the inbox or out. She quickly browsed through the page, with successful results.

'What might you be doing, Ms. Duranty?' Hetty asked from behind her suddenly, scaring the life out of her. She had been intensely focused on the reminder and email first, she hadn't noticed the anyone around her. 'I thought I had assigned you a job to do.'

Alice quickly put down her laptop lid before Hetty could see anything. 'I'm done with that.'

'And what would you be doing now?'

'Ugghh...' she had been told that this woman was the ultimate lie-detector, so she found no point or reason to lie to her. Also, McKay supposedly trusted this lady and was friends with her. That was how she got this job. 'McKay died yesterday. Jonathan Clarke was kidnapped. They knew something. I was... trying to find out what.' She told her new boss.

'Ah... You're trying to finish the job. Making sure he didn't die in vain.'

'It's not only that.' Alice got up, buttoning her suit, towering above the operations manager. 'There were some bad people trying to hide something, and they were willing to kill for it. I, for one, am _very_ interested in getting them the justice they deserve.'

'Oh. What have you found until now?'

'Not much.' Alice admitted.

'Well, I would like to help you, if you may require my help. After all, Andrew was a dear friend, who did not deserve to die such a tragic death.'

Alice thanked her, and opened the laptop again. Her eyes fell upon the time at the bottom of the screen. A quarter hour to lunch. She logged of the _Zac Efron_ ID and gathered a few things in her purse and left for _The Oak._


	5. HUNTtheTRUTH

**A/N: Hey! Thanks for reading this! Also, I'm sorry if this is too fast-paced for anyone to understand. It's because I've got to keep the pace at par with with what Alice is feeling. An overwhelming sense of urgency. If you have any query about the story or anything, please leave a review, or PM me.**

 **And ra ra rah ah ah! Ro mah review!**

 **I'm sorry, I've recently gotten obsessed with Lady Gaga and simply had to put that.**

* * *

 _The Oak_ was a tiny restaurant, that wouldn't have been visible to anyone not specifically looking for it. Fortunately for the restaurateur, lots of people were looking for it. Legend said that its New York cheesecake was something to kill for. Under normal circumstances, Alice would be fawning over the dessert display by now, but this state of affair could be defined as anything but normal.

 _The Oak_ was a 5 minute walk from the NCIS building. Alice fast walked the entire way, looking blank. After waiting outside for about 5 minutes, she saw Jillian hotfoot her way across the busy street. Jillian was looking terrible. Her face had faint streaks coming down from her eyes. She had worn huge, black glasses to cover her eyes; she had been crying, _a lot_. Alice greeted her, and they went inside.

'So, uhh... Jillian. Did Jonathan showcase any unusual or erratic behaviour... before he left for Syria?'

'No, not that I know of.' She took a fidgeted with the bowl of soup, without interest. 'You were his girlfriend. Shouldn't you know if he was... different in any way?'

Alice sighed. 'I... recently left... where we both used to work at. I was...' Alice's eyes welled up. 'Too caught up in my own thing.'

'So you don't work for the paper anymore?' Alice shook her head.

'Is that the reason you and Jonathan were fighting?'

Alice was shocked. 'What? When did I and Jonathan ever fight because of my change of job? He was... very supportive.'

Jillian shrugged. 'I don't know. I had gone to his place a few days before he was leaving, and everything was very neat. I asked him why, so he said that since your stuff was out of the way, his house appeared clean. I asked him why your stuff was out of the way, and then he said that you had changed jobs, and decided to move, and you hadn't even told him about it.'

'Wait. So he cleaned up?'

'Somewhat. You know Jonathan, with all his cameras, and pictures lying around. He can never really clean his house.'

'Umm... thanks, Jillian. That was really helpful.' Alice signalled for the check. After paying, she gathered her belongings in her purse, and got up, when Jillian caught her by the wrists.

'Alice. Before Jonathan went, he told me to tell you, that he loves you from the bottom of his heart. That was never gonna change. He just... didn't want to risk your life.' Alice nodded forcefully.

She decided to pay Jonathan's house a visit after work. Thankfully, he'd given her the keys ages ago.

At the office, she booted up her laptop and went to the _Zac Efron_ email ID. After logging in, she went to saved drafts. There were a few saved drafts.

 **Talked to Robin?**

 **Yes.**

 **Manifests papers are at my house.**

 **Ok.**

Brilliant. McKay and Jonathan had devised a way to contact each other in a way their messages couldn't be traced. Messages couldn't be traced when you haven't sent them. She thought of this: Jonathan wanted to tell McKay something important, he went to the email ID they both shared, and saved a message as a draft. McKay then logged on to the same email ID, and could see whatever message had been saved as a draft. She just had to figure out who in the world was Robin, and find what manifests they were talking about.

* * *

Later that evening, after everything that Hetty had asked them to do, four of five members of the team left in good spirits. 'Joining us for drinks, Alice?' Deeks asked her as he wrapped his arm around Kensi.

Alice walked past him without looking up, and said, 'No. I've got stuff... to do.' _Wonder if I should tell them that my_ stuff _to do includes breaking in my boyfriend's house._ She unlocked her car and got in the seat. _Well, it isn't exactly breaking in, is it? He gave me the keys to his house himself. It is more like... Yeah, what the hell. Who cares if I'm breaking in?_

As she was driving to Jonathan's house, her phone began to ring, with her ringtone being . She immediately picked it up to hear Rachel Baer, her editor's snappy voice at the other end.

 _Alice. You texted me to call you?_ Rachel said irritably.

'Nice to talk to you, too, Rachel. Yes, I did. I wanted to ask you something.' Alice asked, with her phone wedged between her shoulder and ear.

 _Well, if you're considering joining again, you'll have to go through the entire interview process again. If you want to freelance, mail your article on the paper's public email ID, not mine._

Wow. Great way to cut all ties with me, Rach. 'Uh... No. It isn't about that.'

 _Talk fast, Duranty. I haven't got all the time in the world._

'Yeah.' She talked faster before Rachel could disconnect their call. 'I was wondering if you knew what McKay and Jonathan were working on.'

 _Sorry, Duranty, even if did, I wouldn't tell you. You left, so do all your connections. Anything else?_

'What? What do you mean you can't tell me? I'm still a member of the press. I still have a pass.'

 _Well, Alice, you may have been McKay's crown jewel, but he's_ gone _now. I'm not gonna tell you anything. Who're you going to run to now, hmm?_

Alice's blood boiled in rage. 'McKay _died_ yesterday. Jonathan Clarke is kidnapped by god knows whom. Does that not affect you? Or, I don't know why I thought it would. McKay dying would just help you and your own selfish plans of taking over the office, wouldn't it?!' She was yelling now. 'You know what, Baer? You're not a disgusting creature. You're a DISGUSTING creature. Yes- all in capitals. You do know the power of capitals, right?'

Rachel sighed like a tired parent. _Alice. I just emailed you an address. Meet me there at midnight?_

Alice was surprised at Rachel's quick change of mind. 'Alright.' She put her phone back in her purse, and continued driving to Jonathan's house. She parked in Jonathan's driveway, and walked to his porch speedily. She unlocked his house and peeked in. Yes, like Jillian said, Jonathan had cleaned up best he could.

Alice entered his house, and looked at everything for a second, to take in her surroundings. Not that she hadn't been here much, but she hadn't seen this place so clean since... she had seen this place. She, knowing Jonathan, searched for the manifest papers in his library, between books. Jonathan and Alice both owned huge libraries: they were, after all, journalists who constantly had to continue expanding their prose. But Jonathan's collection of books was extravagant. He had volumes and volumes of ancient literature, self help books, fiction, non-fiction, mystery, cookery books, even though he probably hadn't cooked for even a day in his life. An entire wall in his house was dedicated to books.

She ran her hands over the spine of books while observing the titles, noting if they were of any interest. As she was going through the ancient literature books, she saw something _odd_. Between thick, leather bound copies of _The Iliad_ and _The Odyssey,_ was a tiny black gap. Alice shoved her hand through the space. Hmm. There was a book down there. With force, and adjustment of the other 2 epic poems around it, she managed to wrestle out a copy of _The fault in our stars,_ by _John Green_. Ha. Found it. Strategically placed between other big books so that no one would notice it. Also, if anyone knew Jonathan well enough, they would know that he _detested_ romance novels. He had all but romance novels in his collection. And sure enough, there were 2 pieces of paper stuck in the middle. _Manifest,_ Alice thought greedily.

A list of names was printed on a paper. It was a flight manifest to Syria. Dated a few months before Jonathan even had plans to go. And on the other piece of paper, the same people, on their return flight from Syria.

There was one name that did make half sense to her: Marco Robins. The name on the draft said Robin. She bagged the 2 manifests and put them in her purse carefully. She pulled out her cell phone while exiting and locking Jonathan's house, and looked for the mail from Rachel Baer. It was Alice's address. Rachel wanted to meet at Alice's house. At midnight.


	6. Inside the enigma

' _Why would you cut out the last paragraph?'A much younger and greener Alice yelled at her editor in the office._

' _It was redundant.' Rachel Baer said without looking up._

' _But it was favourite paragraph!'_

' _Oh. Thank you for giving me another reason.' Rachel looked up and pushed up her huge glasses that were slipping down the bridge of her nose. 'You know what, Duranty? You're a good journalist. Excellent, if I may say so. But you're used to get things served to you in a silver platter. You need to learn, to_ fight _for what you want. I don't know how you did things in school, but it doesn't matter now, here, we do things_ my _way.'_

Present day Alice paced up and down her hallway, clutched with anxiety. The thought of Rachel was frightening enough. Rachel Baer was a plump, or to put it better, fat woman. She had jet-black hair, but it was common knowledge that it was dyed. It was always silvery near the roots. And of course, the gigantic, blue, reading glasses through which she examined anyone who came in her room.

 **11:56**

Her wristwatch read. She had changed into pyjama shorts and a faded T-shirt. She could imagine Rachel clucking with disappointment at Alice's style sense.

 **12:00**

And Rachel, as always, was on time. There was a knock on her door. Alice opened it. She found Rachel standing there, still in her usual work attire. She'd forgotten that Rachel usually _left_ the office at around eleven. She was wearing a black longer than knee length dress, which she wore on every Wednesday. She'd lost some weight. Alice moved, to allow Rachel into her living room. She entered with her heels clicking.

'Alice. You wanted to know about what McKay and Clarke were working on.' Rachel turned round, to face Alice. Rachel groaned. 'God. I should've known. I'm meeting you. At midnight. At your house. Of course you would be dressed in something like this.' She glanced disdainfully at her plaid pyjama shorts and _Queen Amidala_ tee.

Alice rolled her eyes. 'So, what do you know?'

Rachel pursed her lips. 'I know something. But I'll do it only in return for a favour.'

 _God. I should've known this was coming._ 'Glad to see nothing's changed,' Alice muttered.

'I'm sorry, did you say something? I didn't quite catch you.' Rachel said in a perfectly pleasant tone. Only Rachel-haters like her, Jonathan, and Dempsey would spot the mocking in it.

'I said, what favour do you need?' Alice said, audibly.

'Hmm. You tell me where you work at.'

'What?' Alice asked loudly. She'd gotten clear instructions from Hetty not to tell anyone where she worked. 'Why would you want to know that?'

Rachel shrugged. 'As much as I hate to say it, you can be tough competition. I mean, not _tough_ tough, because well, let's see, I have shortlisted atleast 5 viable replacements for you.'

'Ughhh...'

'Are you telling me or no?' Rachel crossed her hands.

'I'm thinking of freelancing.' She said quickly. _Too_ quickly.

'Nonsense.'

'What?'

'Ha. You're lying. You're not the freelancing type. I once was a journalist too. I know when you're lying. So, spill.'

'I... can't.'

Rachel snorted. 'What do you mean you can't? I thought you wanted to find Jonathan.'

'It's supposed to be a secret, Rachel.' Alice said angrily. 'Why do you want to know?' Alice found herself repeating herself.

Rachel sighed. 'See, Alice- McKay and Jonathan were handling sensitive information when they had gone to Syria. I need to know that I can trust you.'

'How do you know about it?' Alice asked.

'I make it my job to listen to everything that's going on in the office. And I know that you now work for the Naval Criminal Investigative Service.'

Alice widened her eyes, trying not to show the immense surprise on her face. 'How do you know about... any of that?'

Rachel waved her off. 'It doesn't matter. What does matter is, whether I can trust you.' Rachel sighed. 'Do you mind getting me some water?' Alice rolled her eyes and turned to the kitchen to get some water for _HRH_ Rachel. Rachel gasped. 'I knew it. I knew that I couldn't trust you.'

Alice turned round. 'What?'

'Why are you carrying a gun?'

Alice reached her behind. She'd stuck a gun at the back of her shorts. 'Ughhh... Rachel? I'm sure you're aware of the second amendment?'

'Yeah. I know. But why _you_?'

'First: because I work in the NCIS. Second: Are you minutely aware of journalists getting kidnapped and killed?'

Rachel sighed and sat on her sofa. Alice sat next to her, still keeping her distance. 'Guess that covers it. Look, I overheard McKay and Clarke talking once. They were...' Rachel cleared her throat loudly. 'See, they were working on...'

A sharp noise rang through their ears. The window behind Rachel burst into tiny fragments and fell on them and the floor beneath them. Alice bent down on her knees, and pulled the frozen Rachel down too. More bullets came through, and trashed Alice's house. She flinched every time a bullet hit another plate, or a ripped through her wallpaper. She tried to crawl out of there, and make her way to a phone, but pain tore through her feet as she stepped on shards of glass from the window. Rachel had held on tightly to her back.

'Let go of me!' Alice whispered angrily. 'I'm going to call for help.' Rachel panicky, let go. Alice tried to duck walk her way out to the phone. But she immediately felt the glass mutilate her skin. She fell back, leaning on a couch, feeling the need for an inhaler. Alice felt a hard thing she sat on. _The gun_.

She pulled her SIG, loaded it, and took a deep breath, desperate to not let her asthma get hold of her. She raised her arm, and without looking, shot out of the window. Rachel whimpered next to her. After a few shots, Alice lowered her arm. The gun men or women were still shooting. She would soon be out of ammo. Even if there were ammunitions in her house, there was no way either of them could walk around to find them in the glass around them. Unless they were to be walking on tables, but considering the gunfire, that wasn't a very safe bet.

Alice coughed, and felt a sharp pain in her chest. She coughed more, and the pain spread. Rachel had closed her eyes and was muttering a prayer. A cutting sound rang out, but it wasn't guns this time. It was a siren. Alice breathed out sighs of relief as the bullets stopped raining. The neighbours had heard the commotion.

She tried to get up, but her feet seemed to be on fire. In the end, the paramedics came and lifted her up. Another pair of medics was escorting Rachel outside the house. They took her to another ambulance. She tried to go after them, but she saw her team here too.

'Ms Duranty. You've got yourself into so much trouble on the _second_ day of your job.' Hetty said sternly.

'Not my fault. They were firing.'

'That doesn't matter. What does matter is...' she slightly lowered her volume. ' _Did you find anything?'_

Alice smirked. No way was Hetty being so cool with this. Alice sighed. 'Well... she knew something,' jutting her chin towards Rachel. 'I doubt she's talking after this, though. Someone knew that I was getting close. Someone's trying to hide something. I need to find out.'

Hetty looked blankly towards Rachel. 'Oh, Ms. Baer. I can get anything out of her. I'll go speak to her now.' Hetty started walking towards Rachel who was in the ambulance.

'And, oh! Hetty, she knows where I work.' She was embarrassed that she'd nearly got herself and her cover job blown up on the second day of her job.

'Ah... doesn't matter. Ms. Baer is a dear friend. She won't tell.' Alice thought she saw Hetty wink as she walked away to talk to Rachel.

'Whoa. I didn't know journalists actually _did_ stuff. I thought you only took interviews, wrote articles, and got them published.' Deeks said from behind.

'Oh. Deeks. Guys.' She said looking at the others. 'You didn't have to come.'

'Oh, yes, we did. We wouldn't have gotten to see you in a _Queen Amidala_ tee otherwise, would we?' Deeks asked the others grinning.

Alice groaned. 'Oh, I'm never going to hear the end of this, am I?'

Kensi patted her shoulder and sighed. 'No, you aren't.'

'Wait till Eric hears about this!' Deeks squealed.

Hetty walked towards Alice, Deeks, Kensi, Callen, and Sam with a frown on her face and said, 'Look, I know it is late, so I'm calling you into OPS tomorrow. But be there at 7:00 am sharp. There is a very important development in the case of what Andrew McKay and Jonathan Clarke were working on.'


	7. Let her speak, please!

_Mission report: 27_ _th_ _March, 2016._

 _Subject: Raid of Regiment [to be unnamed for confidentiality] operating base on undisclosed location near Iran-Syria border._

 _Total loss: 3 tanks, 4 tonnes of dynamite._

 _Description: Attackers had big artillery, our unit was immobilised due to an Improvised Explosive Device [IED]._

 _Death count: 122._

'A regiment in Syria was attacked by some insurgents. A detainee later reported that all the firepower they had was the US military's. It wasn't made available to anybody yet. Everyone has wondered where they got everything from. No one knows.' Hetty said, staring into the large screen. 'Except Andrew McKay and Jonathan Clarke. They knew something about it.'

'So this is now an official NCIS case now?'Callen asked his boss.

'Yes, Mr. Callen, it is.'

Alice sighed and unfolded her arms. 'Who's Robin?'

'I'm sorry?' Hetty looked at her.

'The manifest that I found at Jonathan's house... and the saved drafts.'

'I'm sorry, I'm not sure I follow.'

Realisation dawned upon Alice. 'Oh, see, thing is...' Alice explained everything she'd found out in the _Zac Efron_ ID and the flight manifests.

'Mr. Beale?' Hetty turned around to find him already focused on pulling the metadata off the mails.

'On it. Alice? The manifests?'

Alice removed the manifests, still inside _The fault in our stars_ and gave them to Eric.

Alice grit her teeth and unclenched them. 'Guys? Since this is a flight to Syria, It'll take some time to get information on all of these people. I'll get everything to you as soon as I can.' He rotated his chair to see Alice's disappointed face. 'Till then... we can't do anything but wait.' He told her dejectedly.

'I'll see if I still have friends that can help me.' Alice went down to her work station, and took a deep breath. She might use up all of her favors in this, but she was going to bring Jonathan home. She went down and emptied her purse. Inside was a torrent of knick-knacks. A leather reminder, Jonathan's leather reminder, a copy of _The fault in our stars_ , her phone, a camera, and of course, lots of pieces of stiff paper. Alice started sorting through the various business cards she'd exchanged at different places. There was one guy though, that Alice and Jonathan had met at a press conference. She found the business card of Syeed Yusuf, a journalist for a Middle Eastern news company.

She dialled the number carefully, and called him.

 _Hello, Alice?!As-salamu alaykum! It is great to talk to you. How are you doing? How is Jonathan?_

'Wa'alaykumu as-salaam, Syeed. I'm alright. Jonathan... he... Ummm... Did you two speak recently?' Alice asked.

 _Why, yes, just a few days ago. He was planning to come to Syria, no?_

'Yes, he was. Why had he called you?' Alice became increasingly curious.

 _Oh, he was investigating a gun smuggling incident, and he needed to talk to some people, so he called me to find them beforehand, so he didn't have to waste a lot of time searching for them. Wait. Is Jonathan OK?_

'Don't worry. He will be.'

 _No, tell me, Alice. What happened?_

'He and McKay knew too much.' _Sigh_.

Silence. _Oh. Well, Alice, the people he asked me to find are, umm... wait, I've got that right here... Umm... Yes. Jamal Abdul and Smit Robins._

'Thanks, Syeed.'

 _You're welcome. Call me if I can be of any assistance. I can only hope that Jonathan and Mr. McKay come back safe and sound._

 _McKay is never coming back safe and sound,_ Alice thought. 'Bye.'

Alice heard a faint bye before the call called disconnected due to a bad signal. She ran up the stairs to Ops, panting. 'Jamal Abdul and Smit Robins. Jonathan was going to talk to them. Did you find anything else?'

'Well, Jamal Abdul is the detainee who told us about the smuggling. And Smit Robins is... a soldier deployed in Syria. That much I know. I and Nell were able to find what manifest that was. That was a plane of volunteers sent to set up refugee camps till the governments could do something else.'

'And Marco Robins?'

'Brothers. And Smit even helped out the volunteers one day, when he wasn't on duty.'

'So can we interrogate any one of them?'

'Well, we don't have anything on them so...'

Alice sprinted out of the room and down the stairs. Eric followed her, and leaned over the railings. 'Where are you going?' He yelled, as if she were standing miles apart.

'You can't talk to them. I can. I'm simply going to write a piece on _Life under fire_. And I need a quote, and I'm going to interview them.' She yelled back.

Nell had followed Eric out on the corridor. 'You go, Girl!'

* * *

 _A few years ago,_

 _There weren't many women other than Rachel and Nico in McKay's department when Alice had joined it. Nico generally kept to herself, and everybody was scared of Rachel. Alice had been asked to cover her co-workers' shifts and expected to agree. Alice, however, being the free bird she was till then, disagreed. That didn't fit well with many of the men there; it didn't appease their ego. They'd gotten lewd, and commented, and catcalled her. McKay threatened to fire anyone who did anything like that ever again, either with her, Nico, or Rachel._

 _Bennett, a senior photojournalist, decided to see how much would McKay stick to his guns. The next day, a photoshopped image of Alice hung on the cafeteria notice board. They were all working on their articles, when McKay stormed into the bullpen._

' _Bennett. Get out of this building, and never come back.' He yelled at him in front of everybody._

 _Bennett left shame faced, and she heard a chuckle on the workstation opposite to her. 'Huh. Guy like that deserved every bit of it. Wonder if I'll see his online blog by him now.'_

' _Why an online blog? Wouldn't he just go to another news channel?'_

' _Ha. Better get used to it. Everyone in the industry knows that if_ McKay _fired a guy, he must really be worthless.' Alice laughed heartily. 'I'm Jonathan, by the way.' The man introduced himself and gave out his hand to shake._

' _I'm Alice,' she said, shaking hands firmly._


	8. Secrets will be revealed

' _Hey! Alice! This is Syeed Yusuf, one of my buddies from Israel.' Said Jonathan, introducing Syeed to Alice._

 _Alice gasped. 'God, I know you... You did that piece about... Uggh...'_

' _Life under ISIS as woman. Yeah.'_

 _Jonathan patted Syeed's back. 'Hey, bud. I'll be right back.'_

' _Sure. Where are you going?'_

' _Booking rooms for us at the hotel? There are going to be a lot of journalists tomorrow, and everyone wants their hotel to be near the press.'_

' _Alright. See you later.'_

 _Jonathan walked a couple of steps, and sprinted back in Alice and Syeed's direction. 'Hey! Wait up. I was wondering, if the hotel is already crowded, and has only like, two rooms remaining, how do you suggest we split?'_

 _Alice looked at him sceptically. 'You and Syeed can a share a room.'_

' _And if there's only one room left?'_

 _Alice smirked and hit him on the head with a book she was carrying. 'We don't stay at that hotel, you_ bimbo _!' Jonathan ducked to avoid getting hit with Alice's duffel bag. He was only slightly grazed. He gave a cheeky grin and walked off._

* * *

There was a knock on the the door of the Robins' house. Smit got up, checked the security camera. There was a woman in her late twenties at the door. The woman looked restless and fidgety. Before opening the door, Smit stuck his hand in his pocket, making sure his gun was with him.

'Yes? How may I help you?' He said to the woman.

'Hello, Mr. Robins. I'm Alice Duranty, from The Guardian. She flashed her _press_ badge in front of his face. _Shit,_ Smit thought. 'I'm actually doing a piece on... life of civilians and soldiers during war. I was hoping you might give me a quote, or an interview?'

Smit looked surly and sullen. 'No, thanks.' And he slammed the door on her face.

Alice was shocked for a second, having heard a loud bang in her ears. A little harder, and he just might've taken the door off its hinges. She knocked a little harder than last time, 'Sir, Please, I promise, I just want to talk! Please!'

Alice put on a frown, grit her teeth, and stared through the peephole on the door. She was sure that even Smit would've checked to see after a little time to see if she was still there. She crossed her hands, and engaged with a staring match between herself and an imaginary opponent, through the door.

'And who might you be?' said someone behind her. _Smit? No, that guy had a buzz cut and didn't smile._ This man had his hair put up in a sideway quaff, and was carrying a grocery bag.

'I'm Alice Duranty. I work for The Guardian.' _Cringe. Hadn't she left a few days ago?_ 'I'm working on a piece on the life of civilians and soldiers during war. I was hoping to talk to him. Both of you, really.'

'Well, happy to help. I'm Marco. Come on in.'

'Thanks!'

Marco unlocked the door, and yelled, 'Smit! Smit!' He shot an apologetic smile to Alice, which she returned nervously. Smit, who was sleep-sitting nearby on the sofa, muttered angrily and shut off the TV. 'Yeah, yeah. I'm not deaf. I can hear you.'

Smit cleared a load of crap from the table, including week old newspapers, leftovers still in their original cartons, and lots of other miscellaneous items. Alice took the precious few seconds to look around their house. It was rather averagely furnished, not too fancy, not too shabby, though it hadn't been cleaned in a long time. A wall, was decorated with Smit Robins' medallions, and military awards, photos of him and Marco together, Marco's certificates in volunteering in lots of places.

'Sit.' Smit said gruffly. Alice took a seat on a chair opposite to Smit and a grinning Marco. 'What do you want to know?'

'Well, to start with, how was your time in Syria? How does an individual live life in a warzone?'

Smit blinked slowly. 'Horrible. I... wanted to come back, but... the civilian's lives were a lot worse than mine.'

Alice breathed. 'Marco?'

'Huh, well, the children. Everyone I went with, the whole volunteer group I went with... we felt so good. I know, it wasn't that great an improvement, but, those people had a little hope back in their life. Germany, I think... was going to send for them afterwards. After vetting them.'

'Can I ask you something?' Smit interrupted loudly.

Alice was surprised. 'Of course,' She said.

'What do you think about going there? You're asking us... like a coward. You work behind the scenes.'

'Well, some of us do. Me, in particular, I don't. I've been those places.'

'What did you think? Nice story for a news article?' Smit replied. Marco tried keeping his hand on his brother's, but his brother brushed it off.

'Not really. I just want the war to stop.'

'Really, now? Do you?'

'We've learned to fly the air like birds, we've learned to swim the seas like fish, and yet we haven't learned to walk the Earth as brothers and sisters. It's a pointless war, like any other. It just... creates carnage.' Alice said her eyes getting a little misty. Alice shook it off. 'I do have another question, Mr. Robins.' She looked towards Smit. 'I wanted to ask you about the raid... last year. You were there, weren't you?'

Smit looked up immediately. He had put on his guard. 'That's supposed to be classified. How do you know about it?'

'So it did happen?'

'What?'

'Nevermind, I was simply convincing a rumor. Imagine if it hadn't been true. _Embarrassing_.' Alice said, trying to maintain her cover as a journalist. 'Ha. Back to topic.' She leaned in towards the brothers. 'So what do you know about the raid?'

By now, she'd thought of Marco Robin to be the more likely suspect. He had been quieter throughout the interview. The answer that he _did_ give, was a way of distancing himself away from the event. Roundabout answers, the good, warm feeling literally anybody who did some good got. His _volunteer_ group all doing amazing things. Smit had a vague albeit personal answer. He wasn't lying.

'Hello? Earth to the Robins'?'

Smit looked up. 'That's confidential content. I can't tell you anything about that.'

Marco took a deep breath, got up, and took deep breaths. Then he dashed out of the house through the back door. 'We've got a runner!' Alice yelled in her mouthpiece. Smit stared wide eyed at her. Callen, Sam, Kensi, and Deeks had surrounded the house before she went in. Now, Sam, who was waiting at the back of the house stepped in and tackled Marco. Within seconds, Marco was in cuffs. Deeks read him his Miranda rights.

'You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say can and will be used against you in the court of law. You have the right to an attorney, If you cannot afford an attorney, one will be provided for you.'

Marco did not protest in or on the way to the boatshed. His big brother had tried to follow him, but Alice stopped him, muttering something.

'So, Marco Robins.' Deeks said.

'Yes?'

'You are suspected of terrorism. Do you plead guilty?'

'Of course not! I'm not a terrorist! I'm against all violence.'

'Have you ever talked to an Andrew McKay?'

'Maybe? I don't remember.'

'Ha. How likely.' Said Alice fuming from outside. She knew what would be very good to calm her from a _Hulk_ -phase. A punch to the face of Marco Robins.

'Do you remember a Jonathan Clarke?'

'No.'

'You know what? Robins? I'm not sure if you watch those movies, but... I'm not going to help you. If you cooperate, maybe your death will be reduced to a life sentence. Otherwise, I'm going to make it my one primary purpose to make sure that you never, _ever see_ the light of day until the day you are killed by the electric chair.' Deeks was face to face with Robins.

'I haven't done anything.'

'Why did you run?'

'I panicked. OK?'

'Didn't see your brother panicking.'

'Look, what evidence do you have anyways?'

Deeks gave an evil smile to the camera. 'Oh, about that... Sam?! Bring in the evidence.'

Sam poked in his head through the door and gave the evidence to Deeks in a zip loc bag. 'This, my friend Robin, is,' he removed a machine gun. 'A gun. The same kind that was used to attack an agent yesterday.' He put it back. 'And,' he oohed, 'What's this? A... photo! Of, Andrew McKay and Jonathan Clarke. Sorry, pal. You're in way too deep.'

Robins sighed. 'Look, I'll tell you whatever you want to hear, if you reduce my jail time.'

'I'll think about it. So...' Deeks rubbed his hands, like a child anticipating his Christmas gift. 'First. Question. What _the hell_ happened in Syria?'

'I don't know, everything, I swear. They told me to smuggle in some extra crates with the ones we were carrying on the plane. They were... giving me a lot of money for it.'

'Who was?'

'I don't know. After I got there, there was a warehouse in Aleppo... I was supposed to deliver everything there.'

After 5 minutes, Deeks came out grinning from ear to ear. 'I'm not depending on that guy for a job that is supposed to be secret anymore. We know the address of the warehouse, number of men that are there, everything. Alice was beaming. There was a fair chance that they might find Jonathan alive.

Beale appeared on the monitor. 'Guys, you need to check this out.' The screen clicked and a video popped up. It was a man, with a scarf around his face. His voice was altered and muffled by the scarf.

'The US has 48 hours to free Jamal Abdul. Or we start killing your people. Starting with him.' He spoke slowly, and prodded a man with a gun. _Jonathan_.

Alice's stomach fell hollow, and she swayed, due to her lack of balance. Her heart started beating faster and harder. She dropped down onto a chair and put her head in her hands. If it were up to her, Jamal Abdul would already be on his way back to Syria from wherever he was currently. But, US didn't negotiate with terrorists. She looked peeked between her fingers to see Jonathan in the video. He looked... _fine_... strangely enough. He'd lost a lot of weight, and grown a shaggy beard. There were cuts all over his face, but they were relatively minor compared to what was probably about to happen to him. _Jonathan... come home._


End file.
